


Aim

by TrishaCollins



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 09:23:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrishaCollins/pseuds/TrishaCollins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Colonnello is bad at not thinking. Set during 366/367.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aim

Don’t think, just aim. 

It was one of the first lessons he’d learned as a sniper. Don’t think about the target, don’t think about home, don’t think about the girl, don’t think about anything else.

Just aim.

Don’t think about the way his hands fit on the gun, about the sound of his own voice alien in his ears, don’t think about Lal teasing him, don’t think about it. 

Just listen to Iemitsu, look through the scope, take the shot. 

Just aim. 

The mission was all that existed. This game didn’t matter, Checkerface’s taunt didn’t matter.

Lal mattered, fixing her. He’d die. He knew that.

There was no going back, not for him.

Lal though, Lal could have a life outside of this.

Just aim, don’t think about it. 

Don’t think about the pacifier hitting the ground, or how good it had felt to throw it.

Not about any of that. 

Don’t wish, don’t hope, don’t want. 

Don’t think. Not for a second, because if he did then Checkerface won, and he was too stubborn to let that happen. 

He couldn’t make him want this back, couldn’t make him feel the rush of relief as the curse faded and he was _right_ again. 

Don’t think, just aim. Aim at Yuni’s team and Yuni’s chance. Listen to Iemitsu, prepare to take the shot.

And don’t think about how right it felt, and how good it felt to know his body would react like it should.

Don’t think about that. 

Just breathe, and aim. Don’t think about Lal, don’t think about chances, don’t think about dying. 

Don’t think about this twisted gift that is more a punishment than a present he’d want to receive.

What the fuck can he do with three minutes, anyway? Take a couple shots at a bunch of kids who don’t even know what they’ve gotten themselves involved in? Remember what it’s like to feel right in his body? 

Just long enough to make sure he knew just how deep a hole the fucking bastard had them stuck in. 

Would he go back to this when he died? Would this be the corpse they buried? Or would it be the cursed form he’d inhabited for so many years? 

Looking at Lal had been a mistake, because now he was thinking. Now he was thinking about the reason he’d followed her and the life he’d wanted to have with her and how much it was going to hurt when his timer ran out. Because it would run out, the timer on the watch keeping him free of the curse, the timer he was sure Checkerface was keeping that was counting down the time he had left.

How much more time did he have? Years? Months? Days? 

Not enough, too much. He’d already lived too damned long. 

Take the shot.

He fired.


End file.
